A Mad Dog's Lesson
I believed in that, but Rood clasped his hands together and politely declined.
“Since I am still a patient, let us spar another time.”
Rood’s body was not fully healed. Thanks to his abnormally rapid recovery, he could move without issue, but his wounds had not completely closed. Occasionally, when he made a large movement, a sharp pain would shoot through him—likely because one of his left ribs had yet to set properly.
Moneck replied, “I was the one who treated you. There is no need to worry.”
“Only two weeks have passed.”
“Ah, have you grown a little afraid after seeing the spirit of our soldiers?”
Rood let out a short, dry laugh. There was no reason to entertain such a cheap, obvious provocation.
“Not at all. I simply thought that if I faced all of you here while still injured, it might damage the army’s morale, wouldn’t it?”
Rood—the one called the Mad Dog—never backed down from a fight that came to him. Besides, he was also curious just how skilled the Voenac soldiers were compared to himself, so he accepted the cheap taunt.
Rood let out a long sigh.
“One at a time. We will spar with wooden swords.”
Rood could not afford to use real blades. His condition was poor; if he wasn’t careful, he might seriously injure his opponents.
At Rood’s words, Moneck nodded with clear satisfaction and declared,
From this moment, the special sparring with esteemed guest Rood begins!
Rood put on the protective gear and lightly swung the wooden sword.
‘Certainly much lighter than a real blade.’
It was only natural that wood would be lighter than iron. Still, one should never underestimate a wooden sword simply because it was blunt and light. A wooden sword was closer to a club than a bladed weapon; a solid hit could easily break bones.
“Ugh! I yield!”
He was already facing his tenth opponent, yet most of them fell before they could even swing their swords five times.
“Who is my next opponent?”
“I will go!”
The one who strode out from among the soldiers was a young man who looked younger than Rood.
“Trainee Hal! It is an honor!”
Rood studied the youth’s eyes. Despite his polite tone, Hal’s gaze was unmistakably that of someone staring at an enemy. It was filled with the stubborn, burning resentment of a man whose possession had been stolen.
“I will begin!”
Clack!
The sound of two wooden swords colliding rang out. Rood closed the distance, attempting a joint lock, but Hal instantly widened the gap to evade it.
‘Huh. He dodged that. Not bad at all.’
Rood thought with a grin. Hal, standing at the edge of Rood’s vision, carefully observed his stance.
‘He’s smiling? Arrogant bastard…’
Hal measured Rood’s height. Roughly six feet two inches—about 188 centimeters. His hair was as black as the darkest night, and his eyes were a deep, venomous green. For someone who had been bedridden for two weeks, he was remarkably tall and well-built. The solid muscles covering his entire frame were clearly visible even beneath the protective gear. Moreover, his masculine, sharp features were handsome enough to impress even another man like Hal.
‘To think someone this good-looking would steal the position I’ve longed for!’
Hal had a goal. Not simply to become a knight, but to become Isabelle Voenac’s personal guard knight.
There had been a time when Hal was merely a farmer’s son helping his father in the fields. One night, while working, he happened to meet Isabelle Voenac during her patrol of the territory. From that day on, he had made up his mind—he would become her guard knight and stay by her side for the rest of his life.
He abandoned farming, entered the training program as a trainee, and threw himself into grueling training day and night at the Voenac training grounds.
Yet what had he heard? According to rumor, the man standing before him—the one with that infuriating face—had refused the position of guard knight.
‘That position is not something to be taken lightly!’
Hal could endure up to that point. But when rumors spread that Rood would once again take the guard knight position after the assassination attempt, Hal felt an uncontrollable rage. Every casual action Rood took toward the role he desired felt like a personal insult.
And when he heard the rumor that Rood had forced Isabelle to support his naked body, he had already lost all reason and was filled with nothing but hatred.
“I’m coming again!”
“Come.”
Rood rather liked Hal’s spirit. Because of that, even though he had five or six chances to counter Hal’s attacks, he let them pass. What Rood was doing now was not simply subduing his opponent, but teaching through sparring.
‘His talent is outstanding.’
Despite showing intense determination in this fight, Hal did not waste a single move. Rood smiled once more at that disciplined attitude.
“What’s so funny?”
“When you see a monkey performing tricks, you can’t help but laugh.”
It was Rood’s version of high praise, but no one present took it as a compliment.
“As expected, you really need to be taught a lesson!”
“Everyone who said that to me ended up crying on the ground. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”
Hal lowered his stance and charged at Rood from an angle. It was time to show off the personal technique he had honed in the training grounds.
Rood lightly turned his body toward the direction of Hal’s charge, but Hal was no longer there.
‘What?’
Rood instinctively realized it. Hal had leaped so quickly that even his eyes had nearly missed it.
‘He really is like a monkey.’
If Rood had been an ordinary opponent, he would have easily been struck by Hal’s fast and unpredictable movements.
Thud!
“H-how…?”
“Good movement, but your initial strike is too obvious. It should be like this.”
Rood pushed Hal’s sword aside, created distance, and lowered his stance.
‘That posture…!’
Rood assumed the stance and slipped into Hal’s blind spot. The moment Hal turned toward him, Rood’s massive frame vanished in an instant.
‘He’s copying my movements!’
Reflexively, Hal raised his sword upward, but Rood was nowhere to be seen.
“Behind you.”
Thwack!
When Rood delivered a sharp flick to the back of Hal’s head, Hal clutched his skull and collapsed forward.
“Ugh! H-how…!”
“Instead of leaping forward, you leap diagonally once more. The moment your gaze turns straight upward, you land and slip behind to strike.”
After a diagonal charge, exploit the moment the opponent turns their head by leaping diagonally again. Hal quickly understood. It wasn’t about striking when the enemy let their guard down—it was about using the very moment they realized their guard was down.
“The enemy is not a scarecrow. Train harder.”
“T-thank you… for the lesson!”
Hal straightened his posture, brought his hands and feet together, and bowed deeply. He accepted the result cleanly. The difference in skill between them was obvious. And it was none other than this man who had protected Isabelle during the group assassination attempt.
Rood gave a short nod and looked for the next opponent.
Thud!
“You have a habit of leaving your left side open too often.”
Thump!
“You seem to have forgotten the basics while only thinking about changing your stance.”
Clack!
“Too honest.”
Watching Rood deliver lesson after lesson with unstoppable momentum, Moneck nodded in approval.
‘He truly is a man worth nurturing.’
Moneck was acquainted with the Thousand-man Commander who had once aimed a blade at Rood’s throat, and had heard several stories about him. He had always possessed an unpleasant personality, but after the death of Dale—who was called the ‘Dog Trainer’—he had lived completely like a mercenary.
After hearing those anecdotes, Moneck had concluded that Rood needed the experience of teaching soldiers.
‘This man does not trust people. That is why he does not even try to get close to them.’
Aside from the spar with Hal, Rood ended every match quickly and concisely. Thanks to that, the faces of the Voenac soldiers grew increasingly gloomy in real time.
These men had originally been gathered from those lacking the skill to face the monsters on the frontier. Their characteristic mix of inferiority and cynicism began to spread like a contagious disease.
“Well, of course this is how it would be.”
“What did I tell you? Only the talented ones improve no matter how much they train, right?”
“In the end, it’s all talent! Talent!”
As a result, almost no one stepped forward to spar with Rood anymore.
“Well then, it seems everyone here has realized something. I suppose it is now our turn to provide instruction.”
Moneck laughed heartily as he stepped forward in front of Rood. The soldiers, who had been looking bitter, regained a bit of vigor in their expressions.
“I will yield the first move.”
Rood nodded at Moneck’s concession and thrust forward.
Tat-tat-tat!
‘Don’t wait to see how the opponent will move.’
Rood unleashed his best attack on Moneck. His opponent was an Aura-using knight. Giving him even a moment’s respite was the same as allowing himself to be struck a hundred times. Therefore, he refrained from using feints or deceptive moves, sticking to standard techniques until an opening appeared, then striking.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
“Is that all you have?”
Not only were all of Rood’s attacks blocked, but he was even struck once in return. The swordsmanship Moneck displayed with his rapier was on a level so high that even Rood found it distant.
‘I can’t read it at all.’
While this was true of all swordsmanship, attacks were always paired with defense. A downward strike not only attacked the opponent’s head but also controlled the movement of any sword placed in its path. An upward strike deflected the enemy’s attack while simultaneously using the clashing blades as a pivot to prepare a cut with the opposite edge.
However, a thrust was an attack on a single point. Rood had believed it was better suited for surprise attacks rather than defense—until this sparring session shattered that common sense.
All of Moneck’s attacks and defenses were executed solely through thrusts.
‘Can footwork really change things this much?’
Bam-bam-bam!
The more Rood moved, the more the area around his ribs began to throb with pain, but he refused to let go of his sword. The other soldiers, who had initially watched with refreshed expressions as if enjoying Rood getting his comeuppance, gradually stiffened as well.
‘S-shouldn’t he stop soon?’
The difference in skill was obvious. Not once had any of Rood’s attacks—which had felled the soldiers one after another—reached Moneck.
“Hah… hah…!”
Even so, Rood continued charging at the impregnable Moneck.
“Kahahaha!”
“That guy is a bit…”
The soldiers exchanged glances. Some even twirled their fingers beside their heads.
Moneck silently met every one of Rood’s moves. He offered neither words of surrender, provocation, nor praise. He simply received each technique that came.
Hal quietly watched the two of them fight.
‘Rood, you…’
As the fight grew longer, the soldiers’ eyes slowly began to change. In the sight of Rood—getting beaten, rolling across the ground, his barely healed wounds reopening, clutching his ribs—each of them saw something of themselves.
Clack!
“Oh?”
The moment Rood blocked one of Moneck’s attacks, it was as if every soldier’s breath had stopped. He had blocked an attack that he had been unable to stop even once until now.
Tat-tat, thud!
Soon after, he was once again sent rolling across the ground by Moneck’s strike. Yet Rood used his sword like a cane and pushed himself back to his feet.
“I have received your teaching well.”
When Rood bowed his head, Moneck gave a short nod and turned away.
“Then I shall take my leave now.”
“Very well. Once dinner is over, I will treat you, Sir Rood.”
As Rood limped out of the training ground on one leg, Moneck spoke to the soldiers.
“To improve one’s skill, one must first clearly understand their own position.”
It was something Moneck often said to the royal guard soldiers.
“However! There is something far more important that you all witnessed today.”
Moneck continued.
“The saying that you must know your place does not mean you should be content to remain there. Have you all engraved that into your hearts?”
“Yes! We have engraved it clearly!”
When Hal answered vigorously, life returned to the eyes of the other soldiers as well.
“Do not yield! Do not make excuses! You are all far stronger than you believe yourselves to be. I believe in that—how can you not believe in yourselves!”
“We will believe!”
As everyone answered in unison, a great cheer erupted throughout the training ground.
“We will now resume training!”
Even late into that evening, the sounds of weapons clashing and the groans of those being struck during sparring did not cease. Yet the occasional bursts of laughter turned into visible breath in the cold air, and beneath the moonlight that shimmered upon that breath, the night continued on.